


Thoughts Wearing Thin

by BeautyInChains



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Body Worship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyInChains/pseuds/BeautyInChains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohinder reminds Matt just how much he turns him on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thoughts Wearing Thin

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Heroes fic, so I hope I did both Matt and Mohinder justice. As per usual, I do not own a thing. I am simply mucking about. Title taken from the song Sleepyhead by Passion Pit.

Matt lives for nights like these, nights when he knows without a shadow of a doubt that they are safe. With Molly tucked beneath the covers of her bed, hair fanned out across her pillow, chest rising and falling slow in deep sleep—the nightmares are a distant memory. And then there’s Mohinder, hot breath ghosting against the back of Matt’s neck, fingers tracing the lengths of his arms, hips pressed deviously, deliciously close. Matt sighs and shivers. 

Mohinder’s lips brush against the nape of his neck and Matt can’t help the soft sound that escapes him, that shatters the silence in the room. Matt moves to shift, to turn, but Mohinder’s thoughts ring out loud inside his head. Stay. And Matt does, even though his fingers are itching to touch. Mohinder circles him slow, the air thick and heavy between them. Matt is already breathing hard and they’ve barely begun. He feels the blush start at his chest and creep upward.

Mohinder’s eyes are darker than usual and Matt feels his gaze wash over him, mapping every single inch of his body. He wants to run, to hide. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times Mohinder tells him, explains it to him, Matt will never understand what Mohinder sees in him. He’s too stupid, too soft, too unaccomplished to deserve Mohinder’s love. Mohinder’s brows furrow and Matt realizes he must have been broadcasting his insecurities by accident. He still hasn’t gotten the hang of it.

_Don’t you think we’ve been through enough? What will it take for you to believe that you have my heart? That you always will?_

Matt feels guilty, stares down at the floor, his large feet—anything to avoid Mohinder’s penetrating gaze. But Mohinder won’t allow it and cups Matt’s cheek tenderly, drawing his gaze up. Mohinder searches his eyes for a moment before closing the distance between them, licking Matt’s mouth open with that clever tongue. Matt gasps as his lips are parted, as Mohinder’s tongue finds his and fucks against it. Mohinder growls into his mouth, pushes until Matt’s back hits the wall. Matt can feel how hard Mohinder is against his hip.

_Can you feel that? What you do to me? It’s for you, only for you_.

Matt tries not to wince as Mohinder slides a hand down the swell of his belly, caressing it on his way down, but then Mohinder’s fingers are curling around his thick, throbbing cock through the black boxer briefs he’s wearing and suddenly Matt can’t think of a single reason why he would ever want to stop. Mohinder drags his thumb across the head of Matt’s cock and Matt can’t help the way his hips buck into the touch. Mohinder’s smile is slow and lascivious and Matt can barely hear Mohinder’s thoughts over the sound of his own heartbeat.

_God, you get so hard, so wet for me._

Mohinder nips roughly at Matt’s bottom lip, stubble rubbing against his pale, sensitive skin as Mohinder works his way down, teeth dragging against his chest, his stomach until—“Oh, fuck!”

Matt’s head snaps back against the wall, throat bared as Mohinder mouths his cock through the fabric stretched tight across it. Mohinder’s thoughts are losing their sense, their clarity, becoming half-formed as the desire takes over. _Smells so. Thick. Dripping. Need to._

Mohinder’s fingers fumble a bit as he reaches for the waistband of Matt’s boxer briefs, tugs them down, wanting them off. Matt has the good sense to step out of them once they’ve pooled at his ankles, but Mohinder doesn’t seem to notice anything beyond Matt’s cock, wet and red and begging for attention. Mohinder watches him with dark eyes from beneath his thick lashes as he laps at the head of Matt’s cock, tongues at the sopping slit before sucking him down, cheeks stark and hollowed. 

Matt’s eyes fall shut against the sensation that threatens to overwhelm him. He can’t watch. He’ll come if he watches. Mohinder moans around Matt’s cock and Matt can barely stand the vibrations. Mohinder’s mouth is hot, wet, and tight—the suction varying as he works his way up and down, savouring the slip and slide, the drag of Matt’s thick cock against his tongue. He tastes like a long, hard day’s work, like a man and Mohinder wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mohinder’s thinking about the way Matt looks when he gets home from work; the way his uniform clings to his body with the day’s sweat, the way his cheeks flush pink after the walk up the stairs, the way his eyes fall shut and he moans in contentment as Mohinder wraps his arms around Matt’s big, aching body. 

Matt makes a high sound in the back of his throat as the words become images in his mind. 

_Almost…_

Matt forces himself to open his eyes, to look.

Mohinder’s lips are slightly swollen and slippery wet, curled around Matt’s fat cock. He’s making soft, desperate sounds and Matt realizes with a rush that Mohinder is stroking himself off. Matt can barely see past his belly, past Mohinder’s bobbing head, but for one fleeting moment he is able to catch the way Mohinder’s long, hard cock is fucking into his own tight fist and then it’s all over.

Matt doesn’t have time to warn Mohinder before it’s crashing over him as hard and fast as a wave, his body seizing as he comes, flooding Mohinder’s mouth. Mohinder moans, swallowing around Matt’s cock until Matt has nothing left to give, until he is hissing and oversensitive. He’s still trembling as his cock slips from Mohinder’s lips and Mohinder rests his damp forehead against Matt’s hip, fist a blur on his cock and then Mohinder is moaning and biting and coming all over Matt’s leg and the floor.

“Fuck,” Matt murmurs, fingers stroking through Mohinder’s curls as they come down.

_Fuck indeed_ , Matt hears and looks down to find dark eyes smiling back at him. Mohinder sighs contentedly, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of Matt’s thigh, _I love you._

“You too,” he says softly, fingers stroking through Mohinder’s hair, “Always.”


End file.
